Cosplay
by B.Vain
Summary: Because Sherlock really is a girl's name. And in this life, in this world they have slightly different roles to play. Ten one-shots exploring the dynamics of one dysfunctional friendship and a serendipitous love. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Cosplay**

_**Disclaimer**: I own neither Sherlock nor Fairy Tail._

**_Summary_**: Sherlock really is a girl's name.

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**1\. A Girl Named Sherlock**

"So, what do you think?" he asked, slipping into his usual role. They both had their roles in this little partnership of theirs. Hers was being brilliant and his was to be the enabler.

Juvia hummed, sharp blue scanning the scene before her."Judging from the tracks- they're fresh- the perpetrator gained ingress via the vents; mustn't have been able to resist the dark, the quiet, the _smell-_ the opportunity to satiate the hunger." she grimly concluded, her voice low and tone savoring.

Gray hummed in acquiescence, following her narrative of the scene with his eyes. Reading the clues and imagining the incidents unfolding just as she said they must've.

"Well, that's another mystery solved." uttered Gray anticlimactically, "Think you should get off my back now, and I do mean literally. Get off me, Sherlock." Gray spoke with a slight tilt of the head to catch the blue haired beauty ridding him piggy-back.

Juvia scoffed, "Don't be ridiculous. There's no telling when that rat might come back." and she did mean a literal rat, not another human with rat-like proclivities, but an actual, real rat. Which was just about the only thing in the world that could give the brilliant, mighty, narcissistic, invincible Juvia Sherlock Lockser a fright. "And since when did you start calling me Sherlock? Stop that, it's creepy."

"No, Sherlock, there's nothing wrong with calling people by their names, it's encouraged even. As opposed to addressing people as idiots, balloon-breasted bimbos, and bald freaks on national media. Especially when these people happen to be elected officials."

Juvia scowled. "So you saw that too." And pouted like a child.

"Well of course I saw it!" Gray exclaimed incredulously, turning his head farther to the side to catch her eye. "The entire nation did. That's why it's called the _national media_. And not Asshole Convention for Potty-Mouth Marathon."

Juvia guffawed in a decidedly un-lady like manner. "It isn't funny." Gray reprimanded. "It's bad enough that you have earned the ire of every psychopath lurking in the basements of the country without provoking the government officials."

"You're right, I'm sorry." admitted Juvia somberly. "I'll start sending out care packages to every serial-killer I helped put on the death row." she added with a cheeky grin.

Gray sighed an old man's tired sigh, shaking his head.

"What the hell was I expecting?" he said to himself, "At any rate, get off me godamnit!"

Juvia tutted disapprovingly, "Is this the mouth you kiss Mary with? What will she say hearing her classy Mr. Perfect swearing like a regular street urchin?"

"My fiance happens to be a very understanding and mature woman. Not that you'd know anything about it. And she also knows what a great distress it is talking sense to you, so my guess is I'm in the safe. Now get off me!"

"Ugh." Juvia complained. She hopped down from his back and sashayed away towards the couch and plopped down into it. "You're no fun anymore, Gray."

"Given that your kind of fun is apt to have me dangling upside down from skyscrapers, poisoned, or like that one memorable time when I was _both,_ I'd count it as a huge improvement."

Gray kicked himself mentally when he saw a spasm of guilt and regret flicker across Juvia's pale, perfect face. And he almost cringed when she said, sincerely, without a hint of irony, "I really am sorry about those times."

"It's okay. It's fine." Gray said quickly.

For all her flaws, Sherlock actually did care for him, maybe even loved him still. And besides, of all the things he had come to regret in the twenty-five years of his life, none of it was the time he had spent with her, even those moments when he was sure he was going to be dead. Even that one time when he technically _was_ dead, for half a freaking minute.

"It's water the bridge." Gray assured her, trying to diffuse the sudden intensity in the atmosphere.

An awkward silence followed during which Gray cast back in his mind for things to say, and not finding any, and Juvia rooted through the garbage hill heaped up on the table by the couch for the remote and flippantly switched the telly on.

Gray had hurt her with his mindless griping. Juvia might appear invincible to the rest of the world, but Gray knew that she was incredibly susceptible to these kind of things, especially when they were coming from him. It was like dealing with a dynamite stick, incredibly powerful and incredibly volatile. It was downright scary, and one of the reason they broke up.

Gray didn't try to talk to her anymore because he knew she would just grunt or nod, feigning disinterest and cold passiveness. That's how she dealt with hurt: Dismissing those who hurt her.

But in three years they spent together Gray had unraveled a lot of mysteries surrounding Juvia's nature. It was funny how she agonized over the world being dull mundane and monochromatic, going to incredible lengths to find a compelling, challenging puzzle, when she herself was the most exciting and intriguing mystery of them all.

The other thing that Gray knew about Sherlock was that when, for whichever reason, she believes she's been hurt it helped if you acted as if not much was amiss with just a hint of contrition, even if all she responds with is a cold shoulder. It helps her think that despite her million eccentricities she wouldn't be abandoned. Gray had come across this particular epiphany in the first few months he had lived with her as his flat-mate, when after months of abusing and generally making his life hell one day Juvia helped him out of a pretty tight jam. And she had done so at the expense of her "cute shoes" and a handbag which, Gray knew, she cared for more than a human life. Seriously. She would walk by a bleeding person, or kill a person, on her way to acquire one of her handbags.

The reason, Gray learned later, Sherlock had helped him out was because he had stayed by her, put up with her crap when any other sane being would have run away screaming. And that made him her ideal flat-mate. It didn't spell anything good for him but was something Juvia deemed even more valuable than the handbags she was crazy about, something Gray hadn't believed possible.

Looking about, Gray asked, "When was the last time you cleaned the apartment?"

Silence from her.

"Well, better clean before your rodent guest decides to make a reappearance." _That _got a reaction from her. She visibly shivered at the thought. Gray smirked.

"C'mon, help me tidy things up a bit." And he set about the task of making her apartment look less like a sty and more suitable for a human sustenance. He started with picking up the garbage: pizza boxes, candy wrappers, chocolate boxes and what not strewn around. As were her clothes. And by the look of things the last morsel of food Juvia had was about three days ago. "Sherlock?" Gray asked, wrinkling his nose at the rancid smell of a small uneaten box of chow-mein he had uncovered from under a pair of discarded panties. "What was the last proper meal you had?"

Juvia saw Gray holding the fast-food box, and padded up to him, "Ah, gimme, gimme." Gray pulled it out away from her reach when she tried to grab for it.

"You must think me mad." Gray uttered blandly. "This is at least a day old, Sherlock." Straining to snatch it out of Gray's hand Juvia scowled up at him, "First of all stop calling me Sherlock, I hate that name. And, secondly," she punched him in the gut. Gray gasped and fell on his knees. Sherlock could take a guy twice his size apart with her hands tied; perhaps it had been a grave miscalculation on his part to keep her from getting something she wanted. "I had bought it just the other night. It's totally edible." and easily plucked it out of Gray's hand. Muttering to herself she stalked off, "Now where are the chopsticks...?"

Gray slowly pulled himself to his feet, and staggered towards the couch. "I think you just broke my intestines." he wheezed.

Sherlock gave a flippant shrug, "You should've known better." She still hadn't spotted her chopsticks, and it was when Gray saw the beginnings of a compromise form on her face did he realize with a faint horror:_ If she can't find chopsticks she would just use her hands!_ And Gray got up to feet as quickly as he could, ignoring the stab of pain as best as he could, and hobbled over to Sherlock. He clapped a hand on her wrist and pulled it down, Juvia narrowed her eyes at him, "You've recovered faster than I remember." Gray gulped down an "eep" at the sight of her slitted eyes and said instead, "Let's get you something to eat that's less likely to force you to the confinements of a bathroom for the rest of the week."

"Chinese." said Sherlock unbending.

"Done." Gray sighed in relief.

"'K. Lemme get my coat then." she smiled sweetly and floated away. Gray shuddered at her utter madness

An hour and three fiery arguments over Juvia's attire later they were ready to go.

"I hate you." Juvia grumbled. "Almost as much as I hate these wretched clothes!" she fumed, tugging at her clothes as if wanting to rip them off her. Her fingers were bent into claws and face contorted with fury, "I hate you!" she screeched at Gray.

"Calm down, you big baby." Gray frowned down at her as he wrapped a muffler around his neck. "I told you we have to take care not to appear as we are getting back together. The media will be hounding our every step."

"I thought your Mary was _mature_ and _understanding_." remarked Sherlock snidely.

"She is." insisted Gray, "But it seems ungrateful of me to reward her kindness with senselessless scandals."

"You really do love her, don't you?" Juvia said with an inscrutable tone. Though to Gray it held no mystery. She was jealous, but Gray elected to let it pass without comment.

"Let's go." Once down the stairwell and to the entrance door of the building, Gray grasped the doorknob and threw the door open on a crowd of journalists with their flashing cameras and overhanging mikes, buzzing and shoving with questions.

Gray sighed quietly. Being a friend to Sherlock was a tough task indeed. He hated the psychopaths not-half as much as these nosy SOBs. He just hoped he would find Mary with an explanation before whatever shit-scandal media cooks up does.

_But fat chance of that, _Gray thought bitterly to himself as he spied a woman tapping away at her smartphone in the crowd he was shoving through. _Fuck you Facebook. Fuck you Twitter._

In contrast to his stolid, almost sullen silence, to his side Juvia was glowing. Media's darling girl, she was. And with her easy charm and witty replies, she had them all dancing to her tune, instead of it being the other way around. None of her rage at her drab attire was conspicuous, but Gray knew it was there, and sooner rather than later Juvia'll even the score.

Gray sighed again. A long night it's gonna be.

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A/n: So here's the first chapter. Hope you enjoyd it. You might've have noticed that I used Juvia and Sherlock almost-alternately to adress Juvia. It was so you could get comfortable with the idea of Juvia being called Sherlock. I apologize for any confusion, I'll try to make it easier next time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer-** The author owes neither Sherlock nor Fairy Tail or any of the characters concerned.

**A/n:** Of times simpler, i.e Before Mary.

2\. A Boy called Watson (1)

SHerlock was having something of an interesting evening, not terribly intriguing, but since the task at hand wasn't to do anything with psychopaths that was to be expected.

"What are you reading there?" Gray asked, his eyes fixed on his laptop's screen and fingres smoothly tapping away wihout a break. He was sitting in the middle of the living room with the laptop in his lap; Sherlock, perched drowsily in her throne-like chair by the hearth replied, "A letter." the Duh and eye-roll not just apparent in her tone but clanging with it.

"Hmmm." said Gray distractedly and pursued the matter no more. Couldn't have, being as intent on his work as he was. A long comfortable silence settled around them, punched softly at even intervels by the tick-tock of the clock over the mantelpiece. A soft rippling hum of people and traffic outside poured in from the window, constant, mingling subliminally with an occasional rustle of paper as Juvia turned her many paged missive and the rat-a-tat of Gray's typing.

Eventually, soon enough, Gray was done, and feeling a satisfied sort of fatigue knotting his back he pulled up hands and stretch out the stiffness with savroing groans. He cracked his knuckles and popped his neck twice.

"Gross." muttered Sherlock.

Rising to his feet Gray picked up the thread of conversation as if he had never dropped it, "That's a rare sight, to watch you read a letter. From one of your fans?" he padded around Sherlock's throne(she loved to live Emperor-size) and crossed into the kitchen.

"Did the sun rise in west this morning?" Sherlock wanted to know.

"Nope."

"Then there's your answer."

Gray pulled open the refrigerator door and leaned in for a beer. "So a death threat from some recently released convict?" She used to go through them for laughs sometimes, but Gray hadn't heard her chuckle in ,well , quite a long time actually.

"No." Juvia sighed, "It's a laboriously crafted loving epistle from a young woman- mother of a four-year-old- who's recovering from a nasty breakup with a man she had thought was be The One, and now wishes to heal her broken heart and mend her crushed spirit in a foreign land in the company of one beloved _Watson_."

Gray blinked. He had been about to take a swig of his beverage, leaning into the kitchen counter, but was given a pause when Juvia began her droning. The very first thing that went through Gray's head, as Juvia went over the traits of the sender, was that they sounded suspiciously normal. The kind that Juvia had trouble holding a simple conversation with without it degrading to a fistfight, let alone establish an understanding and sustain it long enough for it to mature into something like being pen-pals.

That just went against everything Gray had come to learn of her. It was like saying two plus two equals fish.

But Gray didn't have long enough to ponder, for the word was thrown at him.

Gray blinked again.

"What did you say?" he carefully set the bottle down, eyes narrowed and tone silkily dangerous. Like any of it could intimidate Juvia. She simply turned in her seat, bored blue eyes rounding up on him.

"Why are you called Watson?"

"Who's that from?" Gray marched up to her angrily. "My sister?"

"Your step-sister, yeah." held loosely between her fingers, she offered the missive to Gray. "So, why are you called Watson?"

"How long did you have it?" seethed Gray, snatching the letter from her.

"Is it a middle name?" Juvia mused out loud, "A nickname, perhaps?"

Gray's dark stormy eyes turned from Juvia to the letter and flickered down the length of paper, one after another. When he reached the end he rose his eyes, wide with mingled horror and rage, and fixed them at Juvia, "It says she'd be here by six of the sixth. Which means," looking at the clock hanging over the mantlepiece "she's been here for half an hour already!"

"Yeah, you better hurry." she stretched in her seat like a cat, unrepentant . "City is not safe should she decide to set out on a search for you herself. Remember that stupid blog you wrote, 'Study in Pink' is it called?" then she hopped to her feet, rolled her shoulders and floated over the fridge herself.

Gray stood rooted, momentarily indecisive, torn between the urge to throttle the bitch and to make haste to receive his sister at the airport. But even as he felt the rage boil and churn inside him like a sea of magma he made a dash for his room and was out, it seemed, almost instantly.

He was almost out of the flat when Sherlock's screech gave him another halt.

"What's wrong?" he shouted down impatiently.

Seconds later, Juvia appeared, fuming. She was dressed in denim shorts and a loose black t-shirt, her blue luxuriant hair was pulled back in a loose pony tail. And despite the careless casual way she dressed she managed to look twice as appealing as any model on any catwalk on the planet could. Though the expression on her face was something not meant for faint of heart or of delectable taste.

"What did you do with the severed fingers I had kept carefully preserved in a pickle jar in the fridge?!" she sounded like a wounded, wrathful beast. Gray looked back unequably. He thought to himself for a moment if she were for real, then remembering that she had just kept from him the correspondence of his sole living relative he realized yes, she is.

Before moving out of the apartment Gray gave Juvia the finger and then thundered down the stairs. Her scream of outrage followed Gray down, "Next time I'll burn your dumb letters!" she swore.

Mrs. Hudson's head poked out of her own doorway, "Is everything alright with you two?" her brown eyes concerned. Gray shrugged, "Just the usual, Mrs. Hudson. No need to worry." and hurried out onto the street.

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A/n: I apologise for any mistakes. Hope you like it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

A Boy called Watson (2)

When Gray made it to the airport, it was all he could do not to barrel through people knocking them over in his haste to meet his sister. And it wasn't just the eagerness to reunite. Sherlock, that insufferable woman, was right. The city was not safe. Statistics of crimes committed in the past five years began swirling in Gray's mind and a tiny voice, gleefully sadistic like the one and only Juvia Sherlock Lockser, kept giggling softly, saying, "And look just how many of the victims had been unsuspecting foreigners. Look, look."

Gray expelled a frustrated sigh as he craned his neck to search for his sister's familiar face in the milling sea of strangers.

When he couldn't find her his worry, an oppressive black cloud in his chest, grew darker, ``heavier. The unhelpful voice in his head chortled, "Remember, "Study in Pink", buddy? The blog you wrote? The perpetrator was a cabbie!"

Gray's fingers involuntarily curled into a fist. The panic in him was breasting hazardous levels. Ultear was the only family he had, if something happened to her and her daughter, he will...!

Gray clenched his jaw hard.

_Calm the fuck down, man. Panicking is not helping anyone._

He took a deep calming breath and began working through of all the steps he could take in order to locate his sister as quickly as possible.

Within seconds a flowchart was formulated inside his head. And in less than five minutes he had exhausted all options with nothing to show for them.

Gray liked to think himself as something of a tough guy. He'd had his fair share of hardships in life and then some, and he had survived through it all. You don't reach the point in life where Gray was after all the shit he had to put up with without attaining some wisdom and grit. But the very hardships that had made him durable against even the roughest of storms had also left him intimately vulnerable. His Achilles heel, so to speak.

He loved his family too much. He got too emotional too fast and had trouble keeping a level head when things concerning his family didn't break his way. His usual calm demeanor would crack and sink under a sea of raging emotions.

Something that Gray was going through right at that moment. He was at his wits' end, oscillating between abject fear and blinding wrath.

He spent a few moments tormenting himself with worst case scenarios, before the obvious solution quietly slipped to the fore of an unhelpful crowd of what-if's and meekly called attention to itself. When Fray realized what it was he felt like kicking himself. Of course!

The voice in his head, which sounded so much like Sherlock, was incredibly unhelpful. But the real-deal was anything but. If anyone had a chance of finding his sister in the city before some sick psychopath did, it was Juvia.

No, wait. She's a psycho too. But at least with her Ultear's chances of winding up in neatly wrapped pieces were pretty low.

Clinging to that silver lining, Gray charged out of the airport, this time actually knocking people down.

He shot apologies after him without meaning any of them and hailed a taxi soon as he exited. His luck seemed to be looking up finally because one had immediately eased to a stop before him.

"221B Baker Street!" He shouted and leapt inside the taxi. Soon as he slammed the door shut, with a slight hitch, the taxi pulled out.

Within minutes Gray was dropped before 221B. Thanking the driver and waving off the change for which the man would have had to root around in his pockets and waste precious seconds, Gray paid his fare and raced towards the apartment.

He was on the stairs when he heard muffled sounds coming from the apartment, but made nothing of them. He was busy formulating the request for search for his sister into words that would appeal to Sherlock's cold empathy. He was still mulling over phrases when he turned the handle and pushed the door open.

A gale of merry laughter swept over him leaving him a little bewildered. Laughter is uncommon in 221B. Gunshots, breaking china, cries of frustration, even maniacal laughter were likelier.

Gray stood frozen in the doorway.

Sherlock wasn't alone in the apartment, a fact that Gray would have found surprising had his attention not been so completely fixed on the company she was entertaining.

"Gray!" The dark haired woman who was ensconced in his usual seat exclaimed happily. She rose to her feet and shifted the toddler in her arms and moved to pull Gray into one-armed embrace.

"Ultear..." Gray mumbled as he leaned into her hug, a bit confused.

_What the hell?_

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_A/N: _Sur-puh-rise! Only one year before an update. It would have been worse had I not discovered the most Incredible Beta on this site. So if there's anyone still reading this make sure to thank Empress of Everything. This fic just might reach a conclusion yet.

I expect there to be a few mistakes because had to make a few last minute changes. Point them out, I'll fix 'em.

Enjoy!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

A Boy Called Watson (3)

_What the hell is going on? How did Ultear wind up in 221B? She doesn't know where I live._

Gray hadn't been able to reply to her latest letter, chiefly owing to the fact that he hadn't even been aware of its existence since before an hour ago. And the last one he had managed to send had been months ago. It had been before he had even decided to move into 221B, but after he had met Juvia for the very first time, courtesy of her sister.

Gray didn't remember mentioning 221B in that letter. All he had written in it of his encounter with Juvia was a vague "this city is full of freaks". And unless Ultear had developed some psychic abilities in the intervening months, which Gray deeply doubted, she shouldn't have been able to find his place.

Pulling away, Ultear looked up at him with a raised brow. "I thought you'd be happier to see me after all this time."

"I-I am." Gray wrenched himself out of his musings. "But how did you...?" He gestured weakly at everything behind her.

"Oh, your friend picked me up." She beamed at him before turning away.

_My friend?_

Ultear grabbed Gray's wrist and pulled him along after her.

"I tried calling you," she was saying. "But the number seems to be out of service or something."

"Yeah," mumbled Gray distractedly, still trying to solve the mystery of her inexplicable appearance. "I lost my phone a couple of days back. Haven't gotten around to buying a new one."

"I know now. Juvia told me," Ultear nodded understandingly as she settled into Gray's usual sofa chair while he took the low-backed wooden chair meant for Juvia's clients.

"I was starting to worry that you were avoiding me. But turns out you've been keeping busy fighting crime with Juvia-chan, eh?" she laughed. "Hell of a career trajectory, though. From Med school to part-time crime fighting."

_Juvia...chan..? __What..?_

How the hell did _that_ happen? Why isn't Sis screaming with frustration or trying to strangle Juvia? Or strangling Juvia while screaming in frustration? Any of that would've conformed with what usually happens when someone spends prolonged periods of time with Sherlock.

Not the giggly, buddy-buddy bullshit he was seeing.

Gray looked up at Sherlock who regarded him back with a look of such counterfeit wide-eyed innocence that he found its lack of sincerity actually nauseating. Slowly, the picture began to settle into focus, and Gray figured out why and how Ultear had made it to Baker Street.

_This bitch...!_ He fumed silently. _The lows she would sink __to__ in order to settle her scores._

Gray tried to keep his anger in check, to not ruin the reunion, but to no avail. His corroding worry from a few minutes ago was morphing into boiling rage.

_This godamn bitch!_

Gray didn't begrudge Juvia even her most eccentric, offensive acts so long as they were against him. But she had crossed a line when she dragged his family into her petty war.

Gray had thought of Juvia as a friend, had trusted her. He had let her into his life and shared with her his deepest fears, hoping one day she would be able to trust him and reciprocate. Instead, she exploited his greatest vulnerability, put him through the biggest scare of his life for her childish wars.

His eyes must have been radiating loathing like a lighthouse because his sister, who had been prattling happily oblivious to Gray's inner turmoil, had petered to a stop.

"What's going on...?" Her eyes flicked between Gray and Juvia. "You guys haven't been listening to a word I just said, have you?"

"I cannot believe I thought of you as a friend." Gray snarled as Juvia, who coolly looked back at him down her nose.

"Before throwing them out you should have given a thought to how I had acquired those fingers in the first place." she replied coldly.

The undiluted threat in her words finally pushed Gray over the edge.

With a roar, his hands outstretched, Gray lunged at Juvia.

Sherlock didn't so much as bat an eyelid as she slipped down in her throne-like chair so that her back was flat against its seat. Her expression remained unchanged, almost bored, as she pushed her foot out and pressed the sole of her feet against an airborne Gray's chest. She grabbed the hands of her chair, using them to gain leverage, and pushed her foot into Gray's chest, redirecting his flight-course upward by several inches so that he sailed right over her chair and crashed into the fireplace behind.

She did all this with terrifying fluidity and precision. And so damn quickly like she had known what Gray was about to do even before he had twitched a muscle.

Ultear cried out in alarm at the sudden outburst of violence. The baby in her arms awoke at the commotion, but instead of bawling, it eyed the scene avidly, one thumb secured in its mouth.

Juvia had hopped out of her throne and turned around gracefully to face Gray as he lumbered to his feet.

He had hurt his head. Blood matted his dark hair where he had hit the edge. His cheeks were scratched and bleeding.

_Superficial wounds and probably a concussion_, diagnosed Juvia instantly. They must hurt, though not nearly as bad as his bruised masculine ego.

Despite what they may claim, majority of men can't handle defeat at the hands of a woman. Especially the kind of one-sided overwhelming defeat that Sherlock was famous for inflicting. Gray was no exception. But at that moment it wasn't male pride that was urging him on but the rage that Juvia had always sensed lurking beneath his patient, sardonic veneer.

And she felt something, a twinge of an unfamiliar emotion, like a faint pulse of life in a necrotic limb, as she watched Gray wipe the blood from his forehead and wince as he kicked aside Juvia's throne.

Juvia enjoyed fights, enjoyed dominating them. It was the closest to sex she had ever come.

But Juvia felt no pleasure in hurting Gray. In fact, the sight of him injured was causing her... discomfort.

So when Gray came charging at her again, ignoring Ultear's shrill cries of "Stop right row!" and "What kind of example do you think you are setting for your niece!", Juvia slipped into a stance with every intention of ending the skirmish as quickly and painlessly as possible.

Soon as Gray had entered her range, she struck with deadly precision. Juvia slammed the heel of her right foot into Gray's diaphragm, stopping him dead in his tracks. He tried to grab her foot but Juvia had already pulled it away. As Gray's hands stupidly fumbled in empty air, she swung her foot around and caught Gray in the temple.

She expected him to crumble- he _should_ have crumbled- but instead he had managed to latch onto her foot.

Juvia gasped as Gray yanked her off the ground and swung her in a wide circle with all his might. He let her go after going full round once and sent her careening straight across the room to ultimately crash into the wall.

There was a thundering crash as Juvia struck the wall.

"You son of a bitch!" she managed to screech after a bout of painful coughing. _Forget quick and clean_, she resolved grimly. _I am going to spatter the apartment with his innards!_

But just as Juvia had managed to hobble to her feet, she was tackled by Gray back into the wall.

"Oofh!" The breath rushed out of her. She felt her head ring and limbs burn with exertion. But dismissing the agony, she brought her elbow down between Gray's shoulder and punched him twice in the kidneys.

This time Gray did go down, and stayed down.

Juvia wanted stomp his skull into paste but the pain in her leg was pulsing vengefully.

"Good god! What happened in here?!" Juvia glanced at the door as she dragged herself over to the only upright piece of furniture left in the apartment- her chair- and fell into it.

Apparently Ultear had ducked out of the apartment amidst all the chaos and reported to Mrs. Hudson of their wrestlemania upstairs. Good for her. Not that she needed to. The noise and tremors running throughout the building would have alerted her anyway. And Mrs. Hudson in turn had wisely opted to call a friend down instead of coming herself up and sort out the mess.

Despite her splitting headache and swimming vision Juvia managed to correctly identify the tall, silver-haired buxom figure standing in her doorway as Detective Inspector Lestrade.

_Just what I needed_, she thought sourly.

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A/N: I personally like this chapter. It's crazy and violent.

Enjoy!


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